


paint lightly over shadow

by antagonists



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antagonists/pseuds/antagonists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She imagines how Princess Camilla would look surrounded by flowers from Hoshido, a dark memory nestled among the pale petals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	paint lightly over shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madoqa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madoqa/gifts).



> for june bb ilysm enjoy ur gays

*

 

 

In her younger years, before Hinoka had learned the heavy weight of a naginata and the sound of metal through the skies, she had been afraid of shadows. Even now, they often remind her of lonely nights when Ryouma would be up late reading through scrolls, cheeks gaunt and sallow from their father’s death. Takumi and Sakura, smaller yet than her, afraid of the dark and the misfortunes it might bring.

 

Afraid it might take another one of them away.

 

In her nightmares, the shadows of great horned demons would flicker against the walls. Tall and foreboding, singular eyes like gaping holes, thin and clawed fingers reaching towards Hinoka’s hair.

 

Hinoka cuts her hair short when she is seven, arms shaking as she hefts a practice naginata and finds that it is far heavier than she could have ever imagined.

 

“You’ll be able to lift it easier when you’re older,” Ryouma tells her, hands broad and soothing over her aching shoulders. He stands tall when he is alone, but by her side, he lowers himself to his knees and smiles at her. It must hurt, bending his knee over the marred wooden floors of their dojo.

 

“I want to be stronger _now_ ,” she says stubbornly. Her brother smiles at her again. “How much longer do I have to be afraid?”

 

“You don’t have to be, Hinoka. Here—” Ryouma adjusts her hold, warm even through the bandages winding around his fingers. “Like this, you see? Let’s try one more time.”

 

She keeps stumbling from the weight, but her brother is patient, kind where her nightmares are not. When she finally throws the practice weapon down, frustrated and overcome with tears, Ryouma is silent as he combs his fingers through her hair. He shoos away the servants hovering unsurely over her and pulls her into his arms until she can breathe without tasting her tears.

 

“It’s not fair,” she mumbles into his neck, tired and numb. Her hands are swollen and hot; they hurt and sting and she wants the pain to go away. Ryouma shushes her quietly, picking her up and walking past the nosy crowd.

 

“You’ll be strong one day, Hinoka,” he says. Hinoka keeps her arms around his neck and refuses to look him in the eye. The rhythm of his feet over stone is calming.

 

“Why not now?” _Why can’t I be like you_?

 

“Becoming strong takes time.” When he stops suddenly, she lifts her head in confusion. She recognizes this place as the palace stables, and Hinoka honestly doesn’t come here often because of the smell. Setting Hinoka down, Ryouma nudges her back gently. “Maybe we can find something to help you, though.”

 

She steps forward hesitantly. With a quiet rustle, white wings unfold before her, chasing away the shadows and all of her bad dreams.

 

 

*

 

 

Battlefields look more like graveyards when clouds hang heavy in the sky, sunlight hidden behind thick curtains of grey. From above, the occasional glint of dulled swords are more like grave markers than lost weapons, glinting wherever soldiers have fallen. There are dark spots on the ground where the Faceless had been slain, staining the earth with fouled blood and soulless anger. The smell of blood is thick in the air, stronger than the smell of waste and acrid sweat.

 

She sees Princess Camilla, sees the headpiece resembling horns, and the nightmares reappear in her mind’s eye. They are hungry and loud, and after having forgotten them for so long, Hinoka finds herself unsure of her footing once more. She has to blink away her memories, falling into the familiar lurch of her pegasus circling the skies.

 

“Smells nice, doesn’t it?” says Camilla, voice calm even over the winds they ride. Ax steady over her shoulder, tome stored securely within her saddle, the Nohrian Princess seems a dark stranger even though they’ve seen a few battles side by side. “Nothing like surveying the aftermath of a battle, hm?”

 

“There’s nothing enjoyable about this,” Hinoka says, turning her eyes away to instead concentrate on petting her pegasus’ white mane.

 

Princess Camilla seems like she wants to say something more, but Hinoka ignores it in favor of driving her pegasus downwards, feeling weightless for a moment before gravity takes hold of her body again. She circles once, twice around the tired soldiers still standing, then reluctantly alights on a cleaner patch of earth. Sometimes she still has a hard time readjusting to walking on the ground, so she takes a moment to steady herself before walking towards her brother.

 

“I don’t see any of our soldiers out there,” she reports to Ryouma. He stands tall among them, red armor gleaming brightly amongst the drab colors of their camp. “Mostly opposing soldiers and Faceless. We could probably go out to retrieve some of the weapons for use…” Hinoka trails off at her brother’s thoughtful expression.

 

“That would be a good idea,” he says, pensive. “We are running short on gold and weapons. Still, I feel that we should respect the dead and leave their belongings with them. Some of our soldiers may not appreciate being given the weapon of a dead man or woman to wield.”

 

“Understood.” Hinoka looks up at the skies, eyeing the wyvern’s dark wings and its rider in even darker armor. “Brother, do you really feel that it’s safe to be working with them though? Some of them seem to enjoy killing enemy soldiers too much.”

 

Prince Ryouma surveys the warriors still walking around, some wounded, some helping the wounded, others yet hunched over with blank and tired eyes. He sighs, for the people’s pain is his pain, and he’s always had such a welcoming, big heart. “We come from different countries, Hinoka. As such, we’ll like find many differences between ourselves and them. But they are our allies, and as long as they don’t seek to harm anyone here, I will do my best to accept them as the people they are.”

 

“I don’t know if I can get used to it.”

 

Ryouma smiles. “Dear sister, it’s likely the Nohrians feel the same way about us. All we can hope for is mutual trust and growth as we work together.”

 

They both start slightly when Princess Camilla lands with a heavy sound, and the wyvern makes a low noise that sounds terribly hostile. The Nohrian Princess dismounts gracefully, armor glinting with a sinister glow as she takes to rubbing the wyvern’s snout affectionately.

 

Hinoka thinks that it’s similar to how she behaves with her own mount, but wyverns have always looked more intimidating to her. She’s used to the quiet nickers of her pegasus, the feel of feathers and soft white beneath her fingers. Now, standing before ebony wings and sharp eyes, she feels more like the helpless little girl she doesn’t want to be. Subconsciously, Hinoka curls his fingers into fists, wishing that she’d kept her weapon on her. Even if she wouldn’t be using it against ally soldiers, she would feel safer against the shadows of her mind.

 

Princess Camilla notices Hinoka staring at beckons her closer with long fingers. Elegant and neatly trimmed nails—somehow this makes Hinoka feel self-conscious about the state of her own hands.

 

“You can pet Marzia if you’d like,” Camilla says, stroking the wyvern’s neck as it nuzzles her hair. “She just looks scarier than she really is.”

 

With a shaking hand, Hinoka reaches out towards the wyvern. Where she expects the feel of cold and unyielding scales, Marzia is warm and friendly at her fingertips.

 

  
*

 

 

“Your hair is quite short,” Princess Camilla tells her one day. The offhand comment makes Hinoka feel slightly self-conscious, even though she knows her short hair is much more practical for battle. After having had her hair this way for so long, she feels irritated even when her hair begins to reach her shoulders.

 

“It is,” she says, trying her best to work her tongue around the proper Nohrian syllables. “Is short hair not common among Nohrian noblewomen?”

 

“Can’t say I’ve seen it much, now that I think about it,” Princess Camilla ponders, and she smiles warmly. “I don’t dislike your hair, though; it looks very cute on you.”

 

“Cute,” Hinoka repeats, a little dumbfounded. It takes a little while for her brain to translate the word into something more familiar.

 

“Yes,” Princess Camilla reiterates. “Very cute.”

 

Hinoka tries to come up with a sufficient response, but she ends up stammering for a little while. Embarrassing. How is it that she can deal with hardy, uncooperative prisoners of war, but not with compliments? “Um, thank you?”

 

“You’re welcome, dearie,” Princess Camilla says. When they later take flight on their respective mounts, Hinoka questions how the Nohrian princess can manage all of that hair. Instead of snagging on sharp breezes as Hinoka thinks it would, it flows gently, unbothered, like a pastel brook in the mountains.

 

She does admit to herself, though, that the color of Princess Camilla’s hair compliments the blue skies nicely. When she asks about it, Camilla compares her hair to the lavender flowers she’d grown in her garden back in Nohr. Hinoka doesn’t know what those are, but wonders if they are anything like the _shion_ and morning glories she’d see around the palace at home. She imagines how Princess Camilla would look surrounded by flowers from Hoshido, a dark memory nestled among the pale petals. She finds the thought a bit perturbing, though, and tries to dismiss it.

 

When Hinoka stops by a nearby river to let her pegasus rest, she is unsettled by the eerie ambience surrounding the small clearing. Around her, the shadows cast by trees seem to sway although there is no wind, and she is briefly overcome with thoughts of her childhood nightmares. Remembers the one-eyed demons, the sharp-nailed fingers, the endless dark.

 

Her pegasus whickers when she rushes to mount, and she runs her shaking fingers through the white mane, over broad white feathers.

 

“Everything’s alright,” she says to her pegasus, unsure of who she is trying to reassure.

 

“Is something wrong, dear?” Princess Camilla asks when the soldiers settle into the safety of their astral realm. Night has fallen, and the distant, distant stars gleam like scattered gems across the blackening stretch of sky. Even in a different world, they still glow with the same unshakeable confidence that Hinoka remembers of Hoshidan constellations. “You’ve been quiet since recouping with us.”

 

“Princess Camilla,” she says after a moment. She still has to pause to keep from replying in her native tongue. The ore spring laps at her bare toes, a cool reprieve from the day’s troubles. “It’s getting late. Aren’t you off duty tonight?”

 

“I am.” Gracefully, Princess Camilla settles on the edge of the rocks near Hinoka. She doesn’t comment on Hinoka’s turn of topic. “I wanted to spend some time with you. We are very similar, after all, as the first princesses of our families.”

 

“That is true.” Hinoka swirls the glimmering waters with one foot, absentminded. “But I’d assumed that there would be more, ah, interesting company than me.”

 

Princess Camilla’s eye glitters curiously. If Hinoka hadn’t been used to Saizou’s mean, squinty, one-eyed stare, she would be unnerved. “No—nobody quite as interesting as you.”

  
  
“Ah.” Hinoka falls silent since she doesn’t know what else to say. That, and the day’s efforts are catching up with her. She’d ridden her pegasus a bit carelessly, so her legs smart where they’d touch the saddle. Hinoka pushes herself a bit closer to the water, rear barely touching the rocks now. The water is cold against her thighs.

 

“Muscle cramps, dear?” Princess Camilla asks sweetly. Her voice is so different than the one she uses on the battlefield. Still commanding, but gentler, more distracting and pleasant.

 

“A bit. I’m used to it, though, so it’s not too bad.”

 

“Oh, that won’t do, will it? I can fetch a salve for your skin to help with the chafing. You really should take better care of your skin, dearie.”

 

Hinoka takes a while to process everything and replies slowly. “Pardon this question, but what is ‘dearie’, Princess Camilla? Is it a pet name of sorts? You use it often for other warriors here, too. Especially Kamui.”

 

“An affectionate term, I suppose.” Princess Camilla smiles easily. “I’d prefer you call me Camilla, dear. Princess Camilla is a bit too stuffy, and I certainly don’t address you as Princess Hinoka all the time.”

 

Hinoka blanches. Formalities are her way of maintaining distance, and Camilla seems to know that. “Oh. Then, Camilla.”

 

Camilla tilts her head slightly, lips upturned. “Then, dear, shall I get the salve for your legs?”

 

Hinoka slides a bit deeper into the water, embarrassed but glad that Camilla understands.

 

“Please do.”

 

 

*

 

 

After a long day’s march, Ryouma finds Hinoka in her quarters, hunched over something small in her hands. Numerous candles surround her, all half-melted.

 

“You’re sewing,” he says in soft surprise, and Hinoka huffs angrily when she pricks herself with the needle.

 

“I’m no good at it quite yet,” she admits, swiping at the small bead of blood on her finger. “Princess Camilla has been trying to teach me, but I’m afraid I’m not really talented in these arts.”

 

Her brother seats himself next to her, peering at the small square of fabric and the uneven stitches that border the edges. Hinoka’s frankly a little embarrassed to reconfirm her lack of studies outside of battle, but Ryouma doesn’t seem to take delight in her sad attempts at sewing like Takumi might. Briefly, she thinks that Sakura would probably be better at sewing than herself.

 

“So you’ve been spending more time with Princess Camilla?” he asks mildly. She resumes stitching, careful to keep her arms by her sides so she doesn’t send a needle into her brother’s eye. Though Hinoka had expected her brother’s presence to cause her hands to shake more, the concerned tone in his voice is a bit offsetting.

 

Hinoka hums, stalling so she can come up with a proper explanation. She manages another uneven set of stitches. “Well, she’s been teaching me to sew, after all. I seem to be a bit of a slow learner, though, since I usually end up staying in her quarters for a while.”

 

Silent for a moment, Ryouma makes a small displeased noise. “Princess Camilla hasn’t done… anything untoward, has she?”

 

“Mm,” Hinoka flinches when she pricks herself again. “Untoward? I’m not sure what you mean, brother.”

 

“Hinoka,” he says, and his voice is like all those other times he’s had to sound menacing and infallible. He sets his hand over hers gently, prying the needle away and demanding her attention. “Please look at me.”

 

She frowns but sets the needle and cloth aside anyways. Hinoka knows that her brother must be tired from the war and all the responsibilities that come with leading and helping people. Sometimes she’ll wonder if there will be anyone who can help her brother more than she possibly could, someone who can understand his unvoiced struggles and quell them with a soothing hand as he does to her worries.

 

Smile easily he might, but he does have a bad habit of being tight-lipped about his personal woes.

 

“Brother,” she says, and he closes his eyes and sighs.

 

“I’m worried,” Ryouma murmurs, so quietly that Hinoka can scarce hear him over the night. “Coming from Nohr, Princess Camilla has experienced some things that we have not in Hoshido. She has likely seen things we could not even imagine. I’ve noticed that she appears to be quite fond of you, and I worry.”

 

“You worry she may do something to me?” Hinoka asks, thinks back to the times when Camilla had gazed at her kindly, then of the times when murderous rage had shaped Camilla’s expression into something fearsome.

 

“As your older brother, I’m embarrassed to say this, but,” her brother ducks his head. Without his brilliant helmet and armor, he seems bare and humble in his simple nightwear. Smaller. “I fear she may take you away from our family, away from me.”

 

In the candlelight, he looks much older than he really is. His loose hair hangs, dark, still wet from his time in the bathhouse, and veils his closed eyes. Hinoka is both concerned for his health and relieved that he trusts her enough to voice some of his insecurities. It pains her to know that despite how hard they try to trust their Nohrian allies, they still bear wounds from the past in their wartime hearts.

 

“Brother Ryouma,” Hinoka replies. “I won’t leave our family. I won’t leave you.”

 

They sit in silence until the candles flicker nervously over their small seas of wax, breaking their tranquil.

 

 

*

 

 

Once, on a cold night, Hinoka dreams the same dreams of her childhood.

 

Demons: one-eyed, maybe a little lonely, quivering in the dark.

 

“Come back,” they seem to whisper, and she shakes her head, takes steps back until ebony fear is a solid wall against her back. Her fingers are cold and numb, sore as if she’s been holding the reigns to her pegasus for days without rest. They hold out the limp twines of her hair that she’d cut as a small, frightened girl, long and foreboding like rope. They hold the hair in front of her face, so close it almost touches her nose. They insist. “Come back.”

 

“I won’t go back,” she says once. Then again, more firmly, even as her voice trembles. “I’m not going back.”

 

One-eyed, tall and beautiful, hair like rivulets of young night and heavy clouds, unnervingly sharp footsteps; Camilla frowns at her, purses her lips and leans closer. “Come to me?”

 

Hinoka wakes wide-eyed and anxious to a bright and warm morning. Her heart flutters in the afterthoughts of her dream, quick, like the wings of a tiny bird.

 

 

*

 

 

“My older brother seems quite taken with yours,” Camilla says to Hinoka while passing by. In the middle of reaching for a ripe peach, Hinoka pauses to look down at her new company. “I’ve noticed him staring at your brother often during war councils.”

 

“Prince Marx? Taken with Ryouma?” Hinoka blinks. “I’m not sure I understand.”

 

Camilla laughs. “Come down, dear. I’ll explain.”

 

In the sunlight, Camilla’s pale skin glows, and Hinoka catches herself staring without meaning to. Camilla’s hair, too, shimmers distractingly, so different from Hinoka’s dream and her childhood demons. Hinoka breathes in, and the smell of flowers and magic ink overwhelm her. Surprisingly, even though much of Nohr is barren land, Camilla still smells like spring.

 

She clambers down from the tree, warm from the exertion and the sunlight through the leaves. A large basket of peaches rests against the trunk, only half-filled. Hinoka is guilty of eating a few while she works to get the others, though she’s not sure whether anyone has noticed or not.

 

“So?” she says, wiping her brow. “I’m not sure what—”

 

“Closer, dearie,” Camilla says with a patient smile. Hinoka scooches in so she’s only an arm’s breadth away. “Closer.”

 

“Closer?” Hinoka asks, and fidgets nervously when Camilla nods.

 

She has to tilt her head back a little to look Camilla in the eye now, and the proximity isn’t quite off-putting, but Hinoka’s still not sure how this counts as an explanation.

 

Before she can really think of much else, however, Camilla leans in awfully close, sweet breath across Hinoka’s lips, and whispers into her mouth. Presses closer, and Hinoka blinks throughout the entire kiss, confused.

 

“So,” Hinoka mumbles afterwards, very aware of the hand on her back. “Um, Prince Marx wants to—to kiss my brother?”

 

“It would seem so,” Camilla says lightly, other hand coming up to brush the hair out of Hinoka’s eyes. “I was wondering if you’d object to it; your brother is very protective of you, and I’m sure to some degree you feel the same way about him.”

 

Hinoka blinks again. “Oh.”

 

With yet another smile, Camilla guides her back to the tree, skin yielding to Hinoka’s nervous touch.

 

“I dreamt of you the other night,” Hinoka says haltingly, fingers in Camilla’s hair, close to the black headband. “It was—nice, I guess.”

 

Camilla laughs into Hinoka’s neck, unmoving even as Hinoka pries the headpiece from her hair. At the sight of Camilla without those dark horns, Hinoka’s nightmares seem to melt away, and she sinks into Camilla’s arms with a quiet sigh. Around them, peach blossoms fall.

 

 

*


End file.
